Roskva sat in the Queen’s quarters, puzzled.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” She said frustrated.

“Assassination’s usually don’t.” Lord Starkon shrugged. “It only takes a single disgruntled citizen with a weapon.”

“But no one has said anything bad about Aneira. Everyone has had such high hopes for their reign. Who could want to hurt them?” Roskva huffed. Tapping her palm to her forehead in an attempt to help her think. “Are there any known enemies of the crown?”

“Sure, every reign, good or bad, has enemies.” Lord Starkon leaned back in his chair. “You get one, another appears.”

“Why are you being so blase about this?” Roskva said, snapping at the man so sharply he nearly fell out of his chair.

“I’m sorry.” He said surprised. “I don’t mean to be callous. It’s just a part of royal life. There’s a saying in the palace; everyone wants to rule the world.”

“So there’s always going to be someone who wants one of us three or all three of us dead and there’s nothing we can do about it?” Roskva asked.

“Well. Yes.” Lord Starkon stood up and took her hands. “It’s the guards’ job to find out who’s behind it and that’s what they will do. There’s no need to panic.”

“But what if next time they succeed?” Roskva held Lord Starkon’s hands tightly. “What if I forget my sibling like I forgot my mother?”

“I don’t know.” Lord Starkon said honestly. “But when it comes to that, I’ll be here.” He pulled Roskva to his chest and held her tightly. Roskva smiled and let herself be comforted until the words truly registered in her head.

“Wait. What do you mean ‘when’?” Roskva pushed Starkon away. He looked at her surprised.

“What?”

“You said WHEN it comes to that.” Roskva said, narrowing her eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

“What are you talking about? I said IF it comes to that.” Starkon said. He released Roskva with a hurt look on his face. “Roskva. Do you think I would want to hurt Aneira?”

“I- No. No! Of course I don’t.” Roskva said, trying to replay the words in her head to hear the if. “But I swore I heard you say-”

“But I didn’t. You imagined it.” Starkon snapped, he watched Roskva’s face. She waited to see what he would say next.

“I think I should go.” He said.

“Starkon no-” Roskva tried to stop him but she was stopped.

“Clearly, you need time to adjust to life in the palace.” He said. “Maybe in a few more days you’ll be accustomed to royalty, but until then. Please try to remember you aren’t on a farm anymore.” Lord Starkon left the room and Roskva felt her heart tear in two. She fell into the nearest chair, exhausted. For the first time she wondered if she actually belonged in the halls of the palace. Or if she was just trying to put lipstick on a pig.

“This is the way things are here,” she said to herself. But that thought slowed to a halt. “So was the staff being treated like dogs. So was the slow fever plaguing the town. And-and the trash in the streets!” She sat up straight as her thoughts started gaining momentum.

“But Aneira wouldn’t stand for that. They said we could be better than that. Cause just because that’s the way it’s always been, doesn’t mean that’s the way it’ll always be!” Roskva was on her feet as she started pacing again, more energy pouring into her thought process. “And this is MY chance to be like them and make things better than they were!” Roskva hit her fist into the palm of her hand, new ambition filling her soul. She rushed to her door.

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“Page!” She called and as if by magic a teen appeared with a paper ready for notes. “Bring me lots of paper, string and a ladder, please. And have the captain of the wolves visit me when he has the time.”

“Yes, your grace.” The page curtsied and hurried off to carry out the instructions. Roskva whirled back into her room, beginning to puzzle things out. She pulled a stack of her own paper out, knowing it wasn’t enough but it would get her started. She took her scissors and cut three strips. Writing her name, Aneira, and Starkon on them. Roskva was a very visual person and needed the visual clues to help her think. So she ran to her craft trunk and pulled out a skein of white yarn.

“White to hang.” She said aloud to help her remember. Cutting a hole in the three sheets and hanging them up from the ceiling by balancing a chair on the sofa to reach it. With the three main players started Roskva started adding new papers. Adding Bellaire to Aneira’s side and connecting them with green string (for friends). Connecting Aneira and Roskva with yellow (for family). Connecting Roskva and Starkon with…

Roskva paused at her trunk, trying to figure out what her relationship with Starkon was. Romantic? Friendly? Roskva used green yarn for now. That was a question that she couldn’t be derailed with now. Four main players now. She wrote the assassin on a new piece of paper and hung it. Pleased when a handyman arrived with a ladder.

“Wonderful. That’s going to make this so much easier. Thanks!” Roskva said and set up the ladder. “What do you know about the incident today?”

“Uh. An assailant broke in and attacked the heir apparent?” The handyman said unsurely. “I wasn’t there, your grace. I know only what rumors persist.” Roskva narrowed her eyes.

“And what rumors are those?” She asked. “Tell me! Spare no detail, no matter how gruesome!”

“Of course, your grace. Do I have to name who I heard the rumors from?” The handyman winced. Roskva tapped her pencil on her chin as she brought up more paper to take notes with.

“Only if it’s relevant. If it is, I’ll ask. Otherwise, no.” Roskva sat and readied to take notes. “Now, tell me everything.” The handyman was nervous and hesitant to spill many details. But with persistence, Roskva learned the rumor was that someone had paid for Aneira’s death or disappearance.

“What makes the rumor mill think our mystery murderer is after Aneira specifically and not anyone else in line for the throne?” Roskva asked. Drawing a line under where she had written the rumor.

“Mostly because they are the heir apparent. But I suppose you could also be a target.” The handyman admitted, scratching at his whiskers. “Before your grace asks, I have no idea who could want their majesty dead. Everyone in the city seems hopeful for their reign.”

“Do you talk to a lot of people outside the palace?” Roskva asked.

“That’s all I talk to. My family lives in the city. I only come here when something need’s fixing.” The handyman explained. Roskva nodded, beginning to think.

“What about Lord Starkon? How do the people in the city feel about him?” Roskva asked, ready to write. The handyman hesitated. Roskva looked up and noticed the hesitancy. “It’s okay, I won’t be upset. This is purely for investigational purposes and I won’t reveal my sources.”

“Well. Your grace. No one has been looking forward to the former prince ruling.” The handyman whispered. Fidgeting with his overalls nervously.

“Why?” Roskva asked, scooting closer.

“Wh- you didn’t hear this from me.” The handyman dropped his voice lower as he crept closer to Roskva. “But the former prince was a bit selfish and rude. He had everything in the palace made up perfectly for him and his friends while the staff in the palace and all us in the city suffered in the dark ages.”

“No kidding.” Roskva whispered. Then she laughed. “Aneira isn’t like that, they’ve already got estimates on the infrastructure for running water in the city being calculated.” The handyman’s face lit up.

“Well that’s certainly something I didn’t hear from you.” he winked and Roskva winked back.

“This has been very enlightening. Thanks!” Roskva said. The page arrived with a stack of paper. “Perfect timing!” She took one off the top of the stack and wrote the village people on it. Then hung from the ceiling with a black string connected to Starkon. Also connecting a white string to Aneira (to show they appreciate her.)

“May I ask what your grace is doing?” The page asked as they and the handyman looked at the mess before them.

“I’m going to figure out who sent this assassin and why.” Roskva said confidently. “And the first thing to do is to figure out who the target was. And from where I’m standing, it looks like it might not be Aneira after all.” She attached black yarn from the assassin to Starkon and Aneira.

“This would be so much easier if we could talk to the assassin.” Roskva huffed. “Then we wouldn’t have to guess who the target was.”